


You Keep Giving Me These Ideas

by Kaleidoscope_Carousel



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bowling Alley AU, Children, F/F, Missing Scene, Movie Night AU, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleidoscope_Carousel/pseuds/Kaleidoscope_Carousel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Nysara stories from Tumblr prompts I've received.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bowling Alley AU
> 
> In which Team Arrow and the Birds of Prey are rival bowling teams.

”I still do not see the point of this, Sara. Repetitively launching a ball towards a row of targets trying to knock them all down?”

"It’s a game, Nyssa. It’s just supposed to be fun," Sara replies, coming up behind her girlfriend and wrapping her arms around her waist. She stands on tiptoes just so she can plant her chin on Nyssa’s shoulder and whisper in her ear, "you can pretend the pins are the heads of your enemies, if that helps." Nyssa laughs, both at Sara’s words and the fact that despite their significant height difference, Sara always tries to be the big spoon.

"Okay lovebirds, that’s enough," Helena jibes from where she’s sprawled across the seats for their lane. "Let’s get playing. I’m ready to kick Team Arrow’s ass for stealing our third player away!" She glares over at the next lane where Felicity is sandwiched between Oliver Queen and John Diggle, staring guiltily at her red and blue bowling shoes.

Sara walks back over to where Helena is sitting and picks up a ball. “Leave her be, Helena, Oliver asked if she wanted to play with their team this year and she said yes. She’ll just have to deal with it when the Birds of Prey win the championship for the third year in a row,” she shoots a cheeky grin at her friend, “then she’ll see why you never choose your boyfriend’s team over your very talented friends.” Helena grins back.

"Well, hopefully your girlfriend lives up to your hype, because we know that Felicity’s got a mean hook." Sara smiles at Nyssa, who is rolling the ball between her hands as if she’s not quite sure what to do with it.

"She will," she says.

She has no idea how right she is.

By the time Nyssa bowls her fourth strike in a row, the members of both Team Arrow and Birds of Prey have their mouths hanging wide open, and Sara has an almost irrepressible urge to kiss her girlfriend senseless. She manages to hold it back until after the three of them have the medals firmly around their necks and Oliver has grudgingly shaken hands with all of them. 

"Wow," she says, "I knew you’d do fine, but where the hell did that come from?" Nyssa smirks.

"Once I understood the proper hold on the ball and its weight, it was easy to calculate the optimal angle and release for the throw," Sara had forgotten that despite being a martial arts instructor at the same dojo as Sara here in Starling City, Nyssa had majored in physics at the University of Nanda Parbat.

"When you understand the ‘why’ of the action," she had said to Sara. once, "you also understand the ‘how’ and vice versa." Sara’s reaction then was the same as it was now, she just leaned in and kissed Nyssa’s beautiful mouth.

"Ugh, enough with the PDA, you two," Helena says, breaking up the moment, "let’s go to the Big Belly Burger to celebrate. Losing team is buying."

"I don’t recall agreeing to that!" Oliver protests.

"You’re CEO of a fortune 500 company," Helena responds,"pretty sure you can afford some burgers and shakes."

"Come on, man," Diggle says clapping his friend on the shoulder, "I can buy if you want." 

"I don’t care who actually pays for it, as long as I don’t have to," Helena says, "but I’m hungry, so let’s go." The five of them follow Helena out to the parking lot, and Sara hums contentedly as she leans into Nyssa’s side. Nyssa presses a kiss into Sara’s hair.

"Thank you _habibti_ , this ridiculous game of yours was actually quite fun.” Sara squeezes Nyssa’s hand, fingers tangled together. 

"I should be thanking you," Sara says, "but I’m glad you had fun tonight. I did too."


	2. Happiness in Ordinary Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I didn't think I had a choice!" but happy fic.
> 
> After the final battle, everyone needs to wind down. With nowhere else to go, Sara invites Nyssa to come home with her.

“Okay,” Sara says, plopping herself down on Laurel’s couch. Laurel herself is conspicuously absent, probably escaped to their dad’s place. Having your sister host the person who once poisoned you over for a movie night will do that. In Nyssa’s defense, she had apologised. Of course she probably should not have done it while still covered in the blood of one of Slade’s minions, but the intention was there. The woman in question is curled up at the other end of the couch, looking a lot smaller than she usually does without her full uniform.

She’s wearing a pair of Oliver’s old pyjama pants (Sara’s only came down to her shins) and Sara’s old sorority t-shirt that Sara had completely forgotten about until she found it in the bottom of Laurel’s closet. (“Dad was throwing everything away,” Laurel had said, “I had to keep something, even if I was still angry and confused.”) Nyssa has her hair up in a high ponytail, still slightly damp from the shower. Sara had forgotten the way that it curled slightly at the ends. She wants to run her fingers through it, but they’re not at that point again, not just yet.

“So,” she continues, “I have _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ ; _Rent_ ; _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ ; or; _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_. What do you think?” she says, nudging Nyssa’s leg with her bare foot.

“I didn’t think I had a choice!” Nyssa says, the half smile betraying the words for the gentle teasing they are.

“That’s because whenever we were on assignment together and the hotel had pay per view movies, you’d always pick ones that were in black and white. Sometimes they didn’t even have dialogue!” Sara exclaims.

“They were classics, Sara. I was trying to educate you on the finer points of film history. It is not my fault you have no taste.” Sara grabs one of the pillows from behind her and launches it at Nyssa. She’s not surprised when Nyssa grabs it out of the air, despite the fact that her arms were crossed not a second before.

“Careful, _Altaïr Al-Asfer_ , do not start what you cannot finish. I am now armed, and you, defenceless,” Nyssa warns, but Sara has known Nyssa long enough that she can see the playful glint in her eyes.

“Ah, but I have the remote, and the DVD’s which means I can control what we watch tonight. Somebody once told me that to win I need to use all the tools at my disposal, so if you piss me off it’s French movie night, and I know for a fact that out of the dozens of languages you do speak, French is not one of them.”

“This person sounds very wise, and I happen to know you do not speak it either. At least not fluently.”

“She is,” Sara says,” this person, very wise. And don’t forget who got us out of that mess when we were in Paris? High school French can come in handy.”

“I could never forget that,” Nyssa laughs, “the look on the tour guide’s face when we crawled out of the sewers? Priceless. But I do not wish to endure an entire movie in French, so as a peace offering, here is your pillow back,” Sara accepts the proffered item, and feels a little shiver go through her as their fingers brush. She hadn’t needed to grab so close to where Nyssa was holding, she just wanted to feel her touch.

“Alright,” she says, turning to face the tv, “which is it?”

“I loved reading the books when I was little, so why not _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_?” Nyssa says.

“So be it,” Sara says, and takes the chosen DVD over to put it in the player. She picks up the remote once she’s settled back on the couch and starts the film.

She and Nyssa are both leaning against opposite arms of the couch, feet curled up in the middle. Every so often, she can feel Nyssa’s leg brushing against hers.

“Sara,” she hears, as Lucy is introducing herself to Mr. Tumnus. She looks over at Nyssa, and she’s never seen such open vulnerability on Nyssa’s face, not since the events of the warehouse when Nyssa had set her free. “I know that we are not lovers anymore, but would it be too much to ask…could I. . .”

“Did you want to snuggle?” Sara asks, trying not to betray on her face the way her heart leaps in her chest.

Nyssa makes a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. “I would not have put it like that, but yes, I would like to hold you, if that is alright with you.” Sara nods, not trusting herself to speak and shuffles over to Nyssa’s side of the couch, where the other woman is holding her arms open for her. She settles back against Nyssa’s chest like she’s never left, and a weight seems to drop away from her.

“I’ve missed this,” she whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, _habibti_ ,” Nyssa whispers back, “now hush and watch the film.” Contented and feeling safe in Nyssa’s arms, Sara does.


	3. It is not in the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Nyssa is QUITE glad Sara is back.” 
> 
> A scene of Sara’s return to Nanda Parbat. Takes place before the finale.

The dagger is at her throat before she has even brought her second leg over the windowsill.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now, and let you bleed out onto the floor,” whispers a voice in the darkness.

“Nyssa,” she says, “if you had really wanted to kill me, I would be dead ten times over by now. Besides, we wouldn’t want to stain the rug.” There is a clatter, as the dagger drops to the floor, and the kiss of metal has been replaced by the warm touch of Nyssa’s own lips. On her neck, her cheeks, her forehead.

“Oh habibti,” she sighs in between kisses, “I have missed you. I thought I would never see you again.” Nyssa’s hands are everywhere, following the path of her lips along Sara’s throat to her face, then rushing down to her shoulders, her arms, caressing, seeking, searching, trying to make sure that Sara is there, that she is real. Her hands are now at the lapels of Sara’s leather jacket, tugging her fully inside the room. Sara slips in gracefully, and breathes in the scent of incense and candlewax and Nyssa’s jasmine perfume that she only ever wears in Nanda Parbat. She is thrown for a moment because she breathes deep and it smells like home (but it’s not home. Starling is home. It’s home. Or is it now? Can it ever be again?)

Nyssa’s eyes are glimmering in the faint light the moon casts through the windows. Unthinking, Sara brings up her hands and brushes the tears away with the pads of her thumbs. Nyssa’s eyelids flutter closed as two more tears leak past her guard. Sara cups Nyssa’s cheeks in her hands, brings Nyssa’s forehead down to touch her own.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she breathes into the space of longing between them. “Now kiss me. Properly.” Nyssa obliges, leaning in to meet Sara’s waiting lips and it’s like the months of separation never happened. Their bodies still fit together perfectly as they each pull each other closer, trying to disappear one into the other. Even a millimetre of space between them now is too much as Nyssa tugs at Sara’s bottom lip with her teeth and she fits her leg in the space between Sara’s. Sara gasps into Nyssa’s mouth, and Nyssa releases Sara’s lip only to dip back again with another searing kiss. She tastes like anise and alcohol. Pastis, Sara notes vaguely. Her last mission must have taken her to France. She has a brief flashback of the two of them, sitting in a café in Marseille, Nyssa laughing at Sara’s expression the first time she tried the liqueur. Her thoughts are cut short as Nyssa’s hands find a firm hold on her hair and pull, just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure from her scalp all the way down to her core. Her head falls back automatically, and Nyssa bows her head to Sara’s neck, nipping gently before biting down harder, sucking at the skin, marking her. Claiming her.

“Nyssa,” Sara hisses as Nyssa’s tongue soothes at the spot that Sara is sure must be an angry red.

“Yes, habibti?” she asks, hands still roaming along Sara’s cheekbones, thumbs caressing her face, her eyebrows.

“Bed. Now.” Sara growls, and Nyssa’s grin is positively wicked.

“Are you giving the orders tonight, then?” she asks, eyes black, and teeth white against the darkness. Sara doesn’t answer, just shucks her leather jacket and dumps it on the floor before pushing Nyssa backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Nyssa lets herself fall backwards onto the bedspread and Sara quickly climbs on top. Nyssa’s breathing is rapid and shallow, and Sara’s sure hers is the same.

Her voice is rough and low with want as she says “shut up” and makes sure Nyssa obeys, silencing her with a viciously desperate kiss.

Later, as they lie naked together under Nyssa’s sheets, Nyssa absently playing with the strands of Sara’s blonde hair, she sighs deeply.

“You did not come all this way, merely to see me, did you?” Nyssa asks, twisting the strands of Sara’s hair gently between her fingers. Sara curses inwardly at the astuteness of this incredible woman.

“No,” she admits. “Starling city is in trouble again. We need your help. I need your help.” Nyssa stops playing with Sara’s hair and rolls onto her side to look at Sara’s face.

“You know that comes with a price, do you not?” She asks, gaze travelling over Sara’s features, from her eyes to her lips, and back again.

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay, Nyssa. And really,” Sara says, reaching out to run her hand down the improbably soft length of Nyssa’s arm, “I don’t think it’s all that steep.”

“The last time we spoke you would rather have died than return here with me.”

“Things change. I realised that no matter how far I run, or for how long, this place will always be a part of me. I need to learn to face the darkness inside of myself, or it will destroy me,” Sara says. “And it was never about not wanting to be with you. It was about learning to live with me. Myself.”

“I can spare seven of my best fighters. They are my own personal guard, I do not need to ask my father for permission. But I have a request.”

“What’s that?”

“That I come with you. That I am there to guard you and watch your back. I cannot bear to lose you again. I think that would be a pain worse even than death.”

Sara smiles and tucks Nyssa’s hair, still slightly damp, behind her ear. “I would never imagine going without you. I can’t lose you again, either.” Nyssa’s whole face softens, and Sara wonders at her fortune to see this dangerous woman at her most open and vulnerable.

“We face whatever comes together, then?” Nyssa asks. Sara moves closer, close enough to brush her lips gently across Nyssa’s.

“Together,” she agrees.


	4. The sense most linked to memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one giving the other their jacket and not getting it back from the other until it stops smelling like them

“Here is a jacket for you _habibti_ ,” Nyssa says, handing Sara the worn leather garment. “Since you gave your sister yours, I thought you might need it. The nights can be cool at sea.”

“Thanks, Nyssa,” Sara says. As she turns to Nyssa to grab the proffered item, she freezes. “This. . .this is the jacket I lent to you when we went stargazing on the temple roof. That was the night before the earthquake.” Nyssa nods.

“I know,” she says. 

“You kept it all this time?” Sara asks.

“Yes. It was the last thing you gave me before you left. It was a piece of you that I needed to hold on to.”

“But now I’m coming home, and you don’t need it anymore.” Sara says.

“Oh I am sure I will find myself borrowing it again at some point,” Nyssa replies, “but for a while it has not been the comfort it once was.” Sara looks at her quizzically. “While you were gone from me,” Nyssa says, “when I missed you too much, I would put on this jacket because it smelled like you and it was the closest I could get to having your arms around me again. Slowly, over time, it lost its scent and that was almost like losing you once more.” 

Sara steps closer to Nyssa, and lays a palm on her cheek, the other hand snaking around Nyssa’s waist to pull her close. “I’m back now,” she whispers, eyes holding Nyssa’s gaze. “I promise.”

“I know,” Nyssa says, as Sara’s hand slips from her face to the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. She nuzzles into Sara’s hair the way she did the night she first came to Starling City and this time she does not pull away. This time she does not reach for her dagger only to break off and run. This time, she simply holds Sara close, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, and the way her heart beats deep inside, like the low thrum of the ship's engine as it pulls away from port, and steers them both home.


	5. I'm Sorry I'm Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A being held hostage in a fortress and Person B violently leaving a mess of carnage in their wake in order to get to them. Covered in blood and questionable pieces of enemy remains, Person B finally makes it to Person A in the center of the wreckage and gives them a gentle peck on the forehead before apologizing for the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of violence ( as per the prompt). Warning has hereby been issued.

Sara sighed, and pulled herself up a little higher in her chains so she could peer through the arrow slit at the position of the sun. Her captors were obviously familiar with the legend of the League, and had been accordingly cautious in restraining Sara. No matter, she thought as she rolled her shoulders and tried to get as comfortable as possible. Not long now.

Outside the medieval Spanish castle, two guards stood sentry at the main gate, two more at each of the remaining entrances, and six patrolled the wall surrounding the courtyard and the Keep. In the forest surrounding the building, however, a shadow waited. 

Sara yawned, and pulled at her chains a bit more. The lone sentry left in the room to guard her glared, and poked at her with the butt of his automatic weapon. 

“ _Ya,_ ” he said, “ _para de moverte o te hago un golpe._ ”

“ _Hijo de puta,_ ” Sara whispered under her breath, fixing the guard with a glare of her own. He tightened his grip on his weapon, but didn’t move. He had his orders. What was taking so long? Sara wondered.

The sun was low enough now that the glare hit squarely in the faces of the men standing on the walls, and the shadow moved. Within seconds, the first guard went down, his throat slit before he had a chance to react. The second one went down, too, neck twisted at a fatal angle. One of the guard at the top of the wall noticed his companion lying broken on the ground and yelled at the others to get down to the main gate. The shadow smiled as she waited for the doors to open. 

Sara heard the commotion from her prison at the top of the Keep, and she smiled. About time!

The creak of metal against wood heralded the lifting of the latch, and the door slowly moved outward. The shadow launched herself away from the wall, and shattered the first guard’s nose with a forceful kick. He fell back against the others, who quickly pushed him upright again, but it was too late. The shadow was among them, whirling, slashing, kicking, and punching. 

One guard went down when the shadow’s fist shattered her larynx, another fell to his knees gathering his spilled intestines in his hands as if somehow he could fit them back inside his gaping gut. A third managed a scream, before the dagger that took his ear came down again and buried itself in his eye socket. Through all of this, the shadow never stopped moving, black clothing and veil stained red with the shower of arterial blood.

Sara heard the screams from outside, and started counting slowly in her head. 60. . .59. . .58. . .57. . . The sentry guarding her gripped his weapon with white knuckles, and stared fixedly at the door to the cell.

At last there was silence, and the shadow stood from a crouch, the last enemy gurgling out her last breath from a ragged slit in her throat. Casually, she wiped her blade on a guard’s uniform, and wandered through the open door of the Keep and up the spiral staircase to the cell at the top of the tower. She hesitated at the thick wooden door, and whistled out a few notes.

Sara heard the canary song from inside the cell, and wet her lips to answer it with a few notes of her own. The guard, sweat beading his forehead growled at her again  
“ _¡Cállate!_ ” he shouted, and jumped as there was a thunk against the wooden door of the cell. Eyes wide, and mouth set in a grimace, the guard unloaded his rifle in a spray of bullets against the wooden door. “ _¡Muere demonio!_ ” Finally the gun clicked, empty. In the silence that followed, the guard cautiously stepped forward and pushed at the bullet-ridden door. It opened on an empty hallway, the guard took one more step forward, before the shadow leapt from an embrasure in the wall and buried her dagger up to the hilt in his heart.

“ _El Demonio es mi padre,_ ” she said to ears that could no longer hear, “ _soy su heredera._ Get it right.” She pulled her blade from the dead man’s chest and wiped it clean against the part of his shirt unstained by blood. Then, she stood, and sauntered into the cell.

Sara sat patiently as Nyssa al Ghul, Heir to the Demon walked toward her, drenched head to toe in the blood of her enemies. “You’re late,” Sara said, grinning. Nyssa’s lips twitched upwards, too, as she crouched in front of Sara. Nyssa lifted Sara’s face gently with a bloodied hand before placing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting, _habibti_ ,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it, just get me out of these chains.” Nyssa nodded, and set to work picking the locks with the point of her blade. Sara rubbed her wrists as she stood, once the last links had fallen away. “Thanks for coming to get me, by the way,” Sara said.

“Of course, _habibti_ , I could never leave you behind.” Sara placed her hands on Nyssa’s shoulders, brushing off a piece of what could be small intestine, and what looked suspiciously like part of an ear, before pulling her lover in for a kiss. 

“Let’s go home,” she said. Nyssa smiled.

“Yes, let’s.”


	6. It is Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnation/soulmates AU

The first time they meet, they are in a library, and it is burning, burning. He saves her from the flames (she is a he in this age), as the smell of burning papyrus drifts on the winds off the desert. She can still feel the singeing of the hair on her arms when she looks into his eyes, and falls in love for the first time. They marry and have several children, and live many years together, happily, before war comes again.

The second time they meet, class division keeps them apart. She recognises the eyes of her soulmate beneath the dirty hood of a peasant woman in the crowd gathered to welcome their lord’s new wife. She does not love her husband; it was a marriage of land titles more than human beings. She is a pawn in the game of politics, but she feels the swelling of emotion in her chest when she catches the gaze of those clear, bright blue eyes. In this life she has not yet learned how to fight, and can barely move properly in the heavy velvet dress and so when the cavalcade passes by her lover she is powerless to do anything but sit and stare. She looks again into the crowd, but her soulmate has disappeared. In that life, they do not meet again.

They do meet again several lives later, and several countries more removed. They are both men, this time and on opposite sides of a war that neither started. His eyes are not blue in this life: they are brown like his hair, like his skin. But they are unmistakeable. He cannot kill him, his soulmate, his love, his life, and so they run off together. They leave everything they knew behind, and are happier because of it. 

They do not always meet, not in every lifetime. Sometimes she is born too soon, sometimes too late. Sometimes she is somewhere else entirely, and she can never quite remember where. She has been royalty, peasantry, soldier, and slave. She is not always a she, nor is her lover. Sometimes she is male, and her lover, female. Sometimes it is the other way around. Sometimes they are both female, or both male, and sometimes one or the other is neither, or both at once. Their bodies do not matter so much. What is important is their souls. And each life where they have the fortune (or the fate) to meet, the calling of soul to soul is undeniable.

So it was on a deserted island so far from either of their homes. She took one look into the eyes of the one she had found half-starved, half-drowned, and she knew. She knew with her whole being that they had found each other again. She would not let her go, not without a fight.

And so when Nyssa tells Oliver, when she says “I am envious for you will see her before I do” it is not a lie. She knows they will meet again. She does not know the when of it, nor the how, but she knows it to be true. It is Fate.


	7. When You're Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they talk babies.

“I don’t know, Nyssa, do you really think it’s a good idea?” 

They lay together, the two of them, curled up in Nyssa’s very large, very comfortable bed—one of the perks of being the Heir to the Demon. Nyssa was sitting up against the headboard, running her fingers slowly through Sara’s hair, while Sara lay still, head on Nyssa’s lap.

“I think you would make a wonderful mother,” she said. Sara sat up abruptly, pulling the sheets up to her chest, and looking away from Nyssa, towards the wall.

“But the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve _done_? Not to mention the life we lead. I just, I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into this world,” she said. 

“I was a child when I first came here,” Nyssa replied, tone sharp. Sara turned back to Nyssa, and placed a comforting hand over her lover’s.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just. . .I don’t think I’d make a very good mother. I don’t know if I have that in me.”

Nyssa tipped Sara’s chin up with the tip of her finger, so that she could look in her eyes.

“Of course you would, _habibti_ , I have never in my life met someone more full of love than you. You care so deeply for others, yet for some reason you cannot care half so much for yourself. Let me do that part for you.” Sara twisted her lips in a wry smile, and twisted the sheets in her hands.

“Thanks. But I still don’t see how it would be possible. I mean, as hard as we try I don’t think either of us is going to make the other pregnant, and what adoption agency would take ‘International Assassin’ as current employment on the application form?”

“There are ways, my love. In the village below the mountain alone there are many motherless children. We do not have to go through your official channels,” Nyssa said, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Sara’s forehead. “I know you have doubts, _habibti_ , and if you are not ready, I understand. However, know this. If ever you decide to accept what I know to be truth, that any child would be lucky to have you for her mother, then you have only to tell me. I cannot imagine being happier than if you would want to raise a family with me.”

“Thank you,” Sara whispered, wrapping her arms around Nyssa and pulling her close.

“No, darling,” Nyssa replied, “thank you.”


	8. We came crying hither

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "if you're still taking prompts: Nyssa giving Sara stomach kisses?" A continuation, of sorts, to the previous chapter.

“Is it done? Is it ready?” The normally calm and tranquil Heir to the Demon—no, Heir no longer, she reminded herself, though it was difficult to shake the name she had held for so many years— was practically vibrating and bouncing on her toes as she asked the question to a closed wooden door.

“Yes,” came the muffled reply, “it’s ready.” The door opened to reveal Sara Lance, small plastic stick dangling from one hand, and tears welling in her blue eyes.

Nyssa’s brow furrowed in concern. “What is it, my love? What is the matter? Is it. . .not what we hoped?” Sara made a small sound, which could have been either a laugh or a sob.

“It is, though, Nyssa. . .it’s positive,” she said and she held up the plastic stick so Nyssa could see for herself the little blue + mark. Nyssa’s eyes widened, and she took a deep, staggered breath in. Sara knew that this was the closest Nyssa ever came to crying, but she’d never seen it happen with such joy in her eyes. There was still concern there, too, though.

“Are you not happy, little bird? I thought this is what we both wanted?” Sara let out another little sound.

“It is, and I am. But Nyssa, I’m completely terrified, too. I am more frightened than I have ever been before. Forget fighting super soldiers jacked up on Mirakuru, forget nearly fucking drowning. Twice. Forget every moment in the League when you or I were outnumbered and could’ve easily died. This is the most scared I have ever been in my life. Nyssa, we’re having a baby!” Sara couldn’t even finish the last sentence before Nyssa surged forward and wrapped her in her arms. The pregnancy test clattered to the bathroom floor as Sara melted into the embrace, finally letting the tears fall from her eyes. Nyssa rubbed her hands in small circles on Sara’s back, murmuring comforting words to her in Arabic. She pulled back a moment to look down into Sara’s eyes.

“ _Habibti_ , this is truly happening. We are having a child.” Sara nodded, biting her lip. Then she started laughing, laughing and crying at the same time and she couldn’t stop. Nyssa just held her until the laughter and the tears subsided. This time, Sara pulled back, and wiped at her eyes.

“I didn’t think the hormones would kick in so soon,” she said. “I guess it’s kind of poetic, or ironic, or something. I’m so used to taking lives, but this time I’m giving one.” Nyssa leaned down and kissed Sara, softly, gently on her lips. 

“And it will be a marvellous one. Our daughter will have the most beautiful, loving, capable, mother in the world. You only worry this way because you care so much.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sara replied. “I guess, it’s just. . .after what happened,” she paused, and her hand went instinctively to her stomach, to cover the three most recent scars there, “when I thought I might never be able to have kids? That’s when I knew I wanted them. But now that it’s actually happening, I’m scared shitless.”

“We will be fine, little bird” Nyssa said, grabbing her wrist and walking backwards as she pulled her towards the bed. Nyssa sat on the edge of the mattress, pulled Sara close. She lifted up the hem of Sara’s shirt, and placed her hands for a moment on Sara’s belly, still flat as of yet, and ran her hands over each scar. She paused for a moment on those three scars that had almost taken her lover from her, and placed a kiss one each one, a kiss like a prayer. It was not enough, though, to show how she felt so she continued, pressing soft kisses all across the plane of Sara’s stomach, feather light in some places, more insistent in others. She could feel Sara’s muscles trembling under her lips.

When she had covered every inch of Sara’s stomach in kisses, she stopped and looked up into her eyes. “I cannot promise perfect happiness, you know I cannot lie to you like that, but with the League in disarray now that my father is—now that their leader is gone,” Sara squeezed Nyssa’s hand, and Nyssa gave a little half smile. Whatever other parts of their relationship, Nyssa and her father had loved each other, and it is never easy losing someone you love. “Now that that part of our lives is behind us, we can face the future together. With our daughter.” Sara laughed, a real one this time.

“What makes you so sure it’s a girl?”

“Is that not what your friends at Star Labs told us? That to make a child that was truly ours, born of both of us, it would most likely be a daughter?” Sara leaned down and pressed a kiss against Nyssa’s lips.

“Probably, but to be honest at that point I’d started imagining all the things that could go wrong, and I wasn’t paying that much attention. Besides, I’m just teasing you. I love you so much, Nyssa.”

“And I, you, _habibti_. We are having a child!” 

Sara nodded, and the tears in her eyes this time were all happiness.


	9. A Ministering Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I thought it would be quite cute and funny if you could write something about Nyssa getting chickenpox xD and Sara having had it before helps her get through it.  
> Bonus prompt: Would you consider writing more about Nyssa and Sara having a baby?

“I can’t believe you’ve never had chickenpox before,” Sara said, as she ran a cool cloth over Nyssa’s forehead. Nyssa was sitting in her meditation pose, trying to keep still and calm, but despite the innumerable wounds and discomforts she had suffered in her life, this illness was getting to her. She had frown lines on her normally smooth forehead, and every so often she would shift and twitch as if she were going to start scratching, although her iron will made sure she never did.

“I was not brought up near other children, and it is normally a children’s disease, is it not?” Sara nodded, and wrung the cloth out into the bowl of water. “I had little reason to be around the illness later in life, either.”

“And of course, the first time we take our daughter to daycare, she comes home with the chickenpox and hands it off to you.” Nyssa furrowed her brow again, but said nothing. Only the tightening of her jaw muscles told Sara how truly miserable Nyssa was. That little movement was Nyssa’s version of a whimper. 

Luckily enough, Lucia had fallen asleep as Sara held the poor, screaming child on her chest in an effort to keep her from scratching herself raw. She was sleeping fitfully in her crib, little pink mittens tied on her hands to keep herself from raking at her skin in her sleep. Lucia had the dark hair and eyes of her _Ummi_ but she’d inherited Sara’s brilliant smile, and infectious laugh. Unfortunately, neither Nyssa nor Sara had seen or heard much of either in the past few days. But at least she was sleeping now, and Sara could put her undivided attention on her stoic, but obviously miserable wife.

Nyssa closed her eyes and a shiver ran through her. Sara frowned, and felt Nyssa’s forehead with the palm of her hand. “You’ve still got a bit of a fever,” she said, “let’s get you into bed, too. You need some sleep.”

“Meditation is as restful as sleep if one does it properly. You know this, little bird.”

“I do, but in your state it’s pretty clear you’re not doing it properly. Admitting you need rest is not weakness, Nyssa.” Nyssa worked a muscle in her jaw, but finally nodded, and allowed Sara to help her to her feet, and over to their bed.

“This is truly a horrible disease,” Nyssa said, as she lay down under the covers, “at least we can hope that Lucia won’t remember the agony she’s going through.”

Sara lay down next to Nyssa on top of the duvet. “I don’t think children remember much before four or five years old,” she said, “and Lucia’s only fourteen months. So probably not. Doesn’t make it any easier on us, though.” 

“No,” Nyssa agreed, glancing over to the crib where their daughter still slept, “it does not.” 

“Let me go make you some tea,” Sara said, and pushed herself off her elbow to get up and go into the kitchen.  
“Thank you,” Nyssa said, as Sara disappeared through the bedroom door.

She came back five minutes later with a cup of steaming tea in one hand, and a tube of calamine lotion in the other. “I forgot we kept this in the guest bathroom,” she said, “but I think it will help a little.” 

Sara set the tea down on the bedside table, and helped Nyssa lift her shirt over her head. She twisted the cap off the lotion, and squeezed some out onto her hand, then shuffled herself over onto the bed until she was behind Nyssa, and Nyssa was sitting tucked between her legs. 

“You know,” said Sara, as she smoothed the lotion over Nyssa’s neck and shoulders, “I got the chickenpox when I was eight. I was supposed to go to my best friend’s birthday party that weekend, but instead I had to stay in the house, miserable and sick, and so, so itchy. Dad stayed on the couch with me the whole day, watching Disney movies, and playing Go Fish, and every so often Mom would come and she’d rub my face, and arms, and legs with calamine to make me feel better. It was horrible at the time, but it just makes me smile now. Laurel felt so bad for me she even let me play with her favourite Barbie.” 

Nyssa’s shoulders shook gently under Sara’s fingers with her quiet laugh. “I sometimes envy you your childhood, _habibti_. Mine was not without love, of course, but it was so very different.” Sara leaned forward to embrace her wife, arms circling around her stomach, and chin resting on her shoulder. “I do remember once, I was very young and struck with fever. My father was a very busy man, but he came and he sat by my bedside for hours. He sat there, and bathed my forehead, and he sang to me. Lullabies, silly little nursery rhymes, things I did not even realise he knew. Of course, once the fever broke, he had to return to his duties. But I will always remember that.” Sara nuzzled Nyssa’s neck dropping a soft little kiss there at the crook of her neck and shoulder.

“Do you think,” Nyssa said after a moment of silence, “that Lucia will have such fond memories of us when she is grown?”

“Of course she will,” Sara said, “we may not be the most normal family, but what we have is special. And it is full of love.” Nyssa smiled, and reached a hand up to caress Sara’s cheek. 

“I love you,”

“I love you, too. Now drink your tea, and let me finish putting this lotion on you, and then I think we both deserve a nap before the baby wakes up.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Nyssa said, and closed her eyes as Sara ran cool, soothing hands in even strokes up and down her back and stomach, arms and face. She started humming a song under her breath, a lullaby she’d thought she’d forgotten years ago. She heard Sara softly join in, too, and smiled.


	10. First, do no harm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Set after Sara has settled in the League. Sara tells Nyssa how she really feels about her. Or you could have Nyssa doing the telling. Whichever is fine.
> 
> How about both?

“You know, I was studying pre-med before I got on the boat with Oliver,” Sara said, absently. She and Nyssa were standing on the walkway overlooking Nanda Parbat. The wind played gently with the strands of Sara’s blonde hair, and Nyssa had to keep her hands clenched at her sides to keep from reaching out, and tucking the flyaway strands behind Sara’s ear. Sara rested her forearms against the crenulated walls, staring out into the darkness of the mountains and the valleys below.

“I did not,” Nyssa answered, “may I ask why you choose to share this with me now?” Sara sighed, and turned so she was facing Nyssa, leaning with her back against the wall.

“Do you know what the Hippocratic oath is?” Sara said. This was not the answer Nyssa was looking for, but she let it slide.

“The oath taken by those in the medical profession, to care for their patients to the best of their ability.” 

“I will take care that they suffer no hurt or damage,” Sara quoted, staring past Nyssa at a point just above her shoulder, “nor shall any man’s entreaty prevail upon me to administer poison to anyone; neither will I counsel any man to do so.”

“Ah, I see,” Nyssa said, “you are troubled by what happened today, by the fact that we used the venom to deal with our target.” Sara’s gaze shifted and her blue eyes focused back on Nyssa’s face.

“Not just today,” Sara said, wrapping her arms around herself. The leather jacket that Nyssa had given Sara was designed to cut the wind, so Nyssa knew it wasn’t just the cold bothering her. “What we do, what I’ve been doing, is the opposite of what I wanted. I was supposed to be saving lives, not taking them.”

Nyssa took a step toward Sara, reaching out to run a hand down her arm. “Little bird, do you not see? You are saving lives.” Sara let out a puff of air that could have possibly been a laugh.

“I find your definition of saving lives interesting.” Nyssa frowned.

“Let me attempt to phrase it in a way you may understand better,” she said. “When doctors find a cancer in a patient, what do they do?”

“Well, first step is surgery, and then there’s chemo or radiation therapy.”

“Exactly,” Nyssa said. “They cut out the cancer. They remove the damaged and dangerous parts to save the rest. This is what we are doing, little bird, but on a far greater scale than individual patients. We are cutting out the cancer from the world.”

Sara’s death grip on her jacket sleeves loosened a little, but Nyssa could still see the doubt in her eyes.

“What the League does is kill, yes, but we target those who would do far more damage, and to far more innocent people. One life in exchange for possibly hundreds more saved isn’t such a steep price to pay. If it helps, _Taïr al Asfar_ , think of yourself as the scalpel. The instrument draws blood, but it is a necessary evil.” Sara’s hands drop to her sides once again, and the tension slowly seeps out of her shoulders. “You are doing much good here with us. I promise you. It may not be where you thought you would end up, but life rarely hands us what we expect.”

“Except for you,” Sara said, “you’re exactly where you always knew you would be. You were raised for this since you were a little girl.”

“I had the luxury of knowing my path from early in my life, yes,” Nyssa acknowledged with a nod of her head, “but that does not mean that I have not been surprised by what the universe brings me,” she stepped closer to Sara, until she could almost feel Sara’s body heat radiating into the chill of the night. “You, for example,” she said, “I could never have predicted you.” Sara drew a quick sharp breath and stepped forward to close the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Nyssa. She rested her cheek on Nyssa’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” Nyssa asked.

“For everything. For just being there for me, constantly. You’ve been my saving grace in everything I’ve been through since you pulled me out of the ocean, even if you do kick my ass in training. I know I could never survive this without you.”

“Yes you could,” Nyssa said, “you are stronger than you believe, darling.” Sara’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of pink, and not just from the wind. She looked up at Nyssa, and Nyssa could feel the tug of her gaze. She bent down slightly to graze her lips against Sara’s. 

The skin of Sara’s cheeks was cold, where Nyssa cradled her face in her palms, but her mouth was warm and willing. This was not the first time they had kissed, but it was the first time where they could be discovered by any of her Father’s people walking past. So far it had been stolen moments in anonymous hotel rooms, or safe in Nyssa’s private chambers where all knew not to disturb the Heir to the Demon. But kissing here, in the open air, this was different. 

Sara’s mouth moved insistently against Nyssa’s, and Nyssa let out a gasp when Sara’s teeth closed over her bottom lip, and Sara’s hands at her back pulled her closer, as close as humanly possible. Nyssa’s hands ran from Sara’s face to the back of her head, getting caught in Sara’s tangled blonde hair. If the way Sara’s breath snagged when she felt the tug was any indication, she didn’t mind. 

Nyssa broke contact for a moment, but only to change the angle of the kiss. As she brushed her nose gently against Sara’s, she heard Sara whisper “ _Ana bahibbik_ ” breathlessly against her lips. She froze.

“What was that?” Sara bit her lip, but looked up into Nyssa’s eyes.

“ _Ana bahibbik_ , Nyssa,” she repeated, a little louder this time. Nyssa could feel tears gathering in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

“Truly, _habibti_?” she asked, voice and hands trembling slightly. Sara nodded.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Nyssa. I love you.”

“And I, you. _Inta akhadet albi, habibti,_ from the very first time I heard your beautiful laugh.” Sara smiled. “You make me so happy, little bird. I never expected it, never asked for it, but I would never change it. Not ever.”

Sara didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. Nyssa could feel everything she wanted to say in her kiss.


	11. Spell the words on my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine person A lightly tracing “I love you” over and over again on person B’s back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, “I love you too.” Bonus if that’s the first time person A has ever declare their love for person B.

For only their third mission together, Sara thought things had gone rather well. But then again, she and Nyssa had always worked well as a team, even from the first few days of Sara’s training. 

The target had been some sort of drug kingpin or another. Sara had stopped caring what they were selling, only that they were selling it and that she was tasked with taking them down. He’d been better prepared than most, and the fight had been longer than anticipated. Nyssa had shouldered most of the burden, which was why she was currently sleeping peacefully next to Sara in the bed in Nyssa’s room. Well, that and what the two of them had gotten up to after arriving safely home.

Sara’s quarters, while comfortable, were sparse, and her twin bed was not big enough for two. Sara had been in college long enough to learn that it was possible to entertain guests in beds of that size, but it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to do. And so, most nights after returning from missions, she found herself in Nyssa’s room. Not that she was complaining.

Sara smiled as she looked over at Nyssa. The other woman was sprawled on her stomach, face serene in slumber. The sheets had ridden down as she had tossed and turned in her sleep, and Sara couldn’t help but reach out and run her fingers lovingly across the naked skin of Nyssa’s muscular back. 

She could never claim that Nyssa’s skin was flawless, not with the amount of scars she carried on her, but it was beautiful nonetheless, because each scar told a story, and each scar was a badge of survival. Just looking at Nyssa, so quiet and vulnerable made Sara’s heart clench, and she realised just how far she had fallen, and how quickly, for the Demon’s Daughter.

Tentatively she reached out again and brushed her fingers down Nyssa’s spine. Nyssa trembled a little, but she didn’t wake. Bolder now, Sara began tracing the shape of some Chinese characters she’d been learning across Nyssa’s shoulder blades. First 我, then 爱 and finally 你. “Wǒ ài nǐ” she whispered softly as she drew each one, concentrating on the invisible lines she traced, trying to get them just right. She drew those three symbols again and again, until she was satisfied.

Next she moved down to just below Nyssa’s shoulder blades, and began creating new shapes there. This time she chose the elegant, swirling calligraphy of Arabic. She thought she could almost see the trail her fingers left behind as she traced ٲنَا بَحِبِّك over and over.

She chose Russian for the middle of Nyssa’s back, carefully outlining the blockier letters of Cyrillic. Я тебя люблю, Я тебя люблю, Я тебя люблю, like a chant, or a prayer.

Finally, in the hollow of Nyssa’s lower back she felt ready to write in her own language. It was easier, somehow, to hide her message in the still unfamiliar curves and lines of foreign tongues, not that it meant Sara felt any less strongly. That was part of what scared her, though, how much Nyssa made her feel. She’d known for a little while now, how deeply those feelings went, but up until this moment she hadn’t been able to admit them, not even to herself.

Sara glanced again at the face of her sleeping beloved, and smiled. She reached out once more and letter by letter spelled out three little words: _I love you_. She finished by tracing the outline of a little heart at the end of the last word, and let her hand drift off Nyssa’s back, and onto the covers to draw them up and over Nyssa’s bare skin. 

Sara shuffled down from her sitting position, until she was lying on her back, head on the pillow. She, too, was tired from the day, and ready to sleep. Just before she drifted off, she felt strong arms wrap around her to draw her close, and she heard Nyssa’s voice whispering in her ear. “I love you, too, _habibti_. I love you, too.”


	12. There golden sleep doth reign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this [ photo on tumblr ](http://caitylotztho.tumblr.com/post/116182778193/sara-and-her-daughter-after-a-very-hectic-day)
> 
> Nyssa comes home to find a pair of sleeping beauties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same universe as the chapters _When you're ready_ , _We came crying hither_ , and _A ministering Angel_ all found in this same work.

The house is quiet when Nyssa gets home from patrol. She slips quietly and carefully through the back door, and into the darkened kitchen. There is enough light coming from the full moon to see her path, but Nyssa knows this place by heart anyway. 

She could have navigated it blindfolded a week after they moved in, thanks to League training, but it's now been over a year since she and Sara bought the little non-descript house in a residential area of Starling to raise their daughter in, and her ease is less from necessity, and more from comfort. 

There's a soft light filtering down from the top of the stairs, and Nyssa frowns and pauses for a moment. It's well past midnight, Sara should have been fast asleep by now. Her Beloved had had a very busy week, both at work, and as the Canary, which was why tonight Nyssa had offered to take up the wig and give her a moment's rest.

She climbs noiselessly up the stairs, and thanks whatever deity watches over her kind that assassin’s training is as good for being aware of and avoiding discarded Legos with bare feet, as it is in evading hidden snares and other traps. The former being arguably more painful, in her opinion. 

The owner of said Legos should have been tucked safely away in her bedroom, her canary yellow nightlight guarding against bad dreams and monsters lurking in closets, but when Nyssa opens the door to Lucia’s room on her way to her and Sara’s own, the bed is empty, and the little girl nowhere to be seen. Nyssa’s heart speeds up for a moment, before she takes a breath and reminds herself that if anything had happened to Lucia, Sara would have had the entire Arrow team, the Flash, and possibly even the Bat family on the case in less than thirty seconds. Felicity, honourary auntie and child spoiler extraordinaire, would have had them on it in less than ten. 

Nyssa closes the door with a gentle click, and pads down the hall, to where the light from their bedroom is spilling from the half open doorway. When she peers round the door into the room, there is Lucia, curled up on the bed in the striped pink pyjamas Felicity had bought her for her fifth birthday, and cuddling the teddy bear that Nana Dinah had given to her the day she was brought home from hospital. The stuffed animal rarely leaves her sight, and is definitely showing its wear, but Lucia stubbornly refuses to go to sleep until Dubb is safely in her arms. Nyssa smiles at the sight of her daughter, dark hair a tumbled mess in sleep, breathing deeply in and out, with Sara’s arm wrapped protectively around her small body. 

All Nyssa can see of Sara from her angle is that shielding arm, but when she steps into the room, the mystery of the light is revealed. Sara is laying on the bed, fully clothed, her other arm curled up and under her head as a pillow. She hasn’t even taken off the bracelet Nyssa gave her as their anniversary present, and the diamonds on her wrist sparkle even in the gentle light of the bedside lamp. 

Nyssa doesn’t want to wake either of them up, so she tries to move as quietly as possible, but Sara has always seemed to be attuned to her presence, and her eyes flutter open as soon as Nyssa has stepped fully into the room.

“Hey,” she says, lifting her head from the bed, and blinking sleepily at Nyssa, “how was patrol?”

“Fine,” Nyssa answers, “you took care of the majority of the Triad’s operations earlier this week. I merely went in and mopped up the rest.”

“Sorry to ruin your fun,”

“Not at all. I quite enjoyed having a leisurely evening. Speaking of those, how was yours? I was a bit surprised to come home and find the light was still on.”

“Worried about the electrical bill, Nyssa?” Sara says with a small smirk, and shifts to sit upright on the bed.

“No, more worried about you, _habibti_. You fell asleep fully clothed and this was supposed to be a restful night for you.” Nyssa crosses over to the other side of the bed, so she can sit next to her wife and their baby girl, still sound asleep. She gathers Sara into her arms, and Sara turns her head up to place a kiss on Nyssa’s cheek.

“Well, I was going to get ready for bed, but then Lucia had a nightmare. She wouldn’t go back to her own room—obviously she has her _Ummi_ ’s stubbornness—so I just held her here until she went back to sleep. I must have fallen asleep, too.” 

“Perhaps she inherited her mummy’s obstinacy, instead,” Nyssa retorts, but there is no sting in the words. 

“Honestly, she gets a healthy dose of it from both of us, I think. I’m not looking forward to the teenage years.”

“By then she will have begun her training, and we can simply remind her why it is important to respect her elders.”

“Nyssa, we are _not_ using League training methods with our daughter.” Nyssa laughs at the shocked expression on Sara’s face.

“I was only joking, _habibti_. Besides, we have many years before that is something we have to face. Let us enjoy what we have now.” Sara nods and leans back against Nyssa’s chest.

“Like temper tantrums and unicorn obsessions?” 

“Yes, even temper tantrums and the unicorn obsession. Although I believe she may be moving on to elves, now.” 

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Uncle Oliver dresses up in green and runs around the city shooting arrows like some sort of modern day Legolas, would it? I still can’t believe you read _Lord of the Rings_ to our daughter. I still can’t believe she sat through it!”

“I edited it carefully for her age level,” Nyssa replies, “and she likes when I do the voices.” She can feel Sara chuckling softly against her chest.

“If someone had told me the day I met you on Lian Yu, that the terrifying woman in black would one day read stories to our daughter in squeaky hobbit voices, I would have figured them for more delirious than I was.”

“And yet here we are,” Nyssa says. 

“Yes, here we are,” Sara echoes, and snuggles more deeply into Nyssa’s embrace.

“Oh no, _habibti_ , do not start falling asleep on me. We are both going to change into proper sleepwear, and get into bed. We both need the rest.” Sara nods, and leans up so that Nyssa can slip out from behind her. “You get changed while I take Lucia back to her room,” Nyssa says. Sara makes a sleepy noise of assent that Nyssa takes as agreement enough. Sara slips off the bed, too, so that Nyssa can reach over and pick Lucia, and Dubb, of course, up off the bed.

Lucia mumbles a little, and curls into Nyssa’s chest, but she doesn’t wake. She holds Dubb loosely by his paw in one chubby little hand. Nyssa presses a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead, before carrying her off and settling her back in her own room. She makes sure the nightlight is switched on, and even checks the closet for monsters, just in case, despite the fact that Lucia is still held fast in slumber and doesn’t notice.

When she gets back to her bedroom, Sara is already changed and under the covers. Nyssa strips off her jeans, dark red blouse, and bra and tosses them on the chair, then slips an old sorority t-shirt of Sara’s over her head and joins her Beloved in the bed. 

Sara is already almost asleep when Nyssa curls around her, but she settles back against Nyssa with a hum of pleasure in the back of her throat. “Good night, my darling,” Nyssa whispers, “sleep well.”

“You too, Nyssa,” Sara mumbles, “G’night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubb is Arabic for bear. So Lucia is about as creative as most children when naming their teddies.


	13. In the quiet of the evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A combination of two prompts: For the first time ever since they've met, Sara catches Nyssa crying. Nyssa and Sara lying in bed talking. Writers choice what they talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed and written very quickly so I may revisit to tidy it up a bit.

Sara wakes with a sharp breath and a sudden start, the taste of blood and salt water in her mouth. Her trembling hands fly to her stomach, desperate to pull out the arrows, but come up against nothing but air. Sara lets her head fall back with a thud against the pillowcase. Another nightmare. 

They had told her that the gift bestowed by the waters of the Pit came with a certain cost. Temporary insanity, paranoia, rage. Through the dull fog of her memories, Sara can remember the soft room they placed her in after she emerged, and they way the walls were torn to shreds, pillowy white stained with lines of jagged red by the time she came back to herself. Nyssa came to her then, as she was rocking back and forth in a corner and staring at her torn and bloody hands, nails bitten to the quick. Nyssa gathered her into her arms and carried her, while Sara shook and sobbed, through the many twisting passageways of Nanda Parbat, to her room, and settled her gently on the bed.

That had been a day ago, or two maybe, the passage of time seems different now that she’s come back from a place where time doesn’t really exist. 

Sara is no stranger to dreaming about her own death. She’s come back from it twice already, but never in such a literal sense. She takes a deep breath and runs her hands over her stomach, just in case. There’s nothing there, not even a scar. In fact, Sara no longer has any scars anywhere on her body, not even the one on her leg from her first set of stitches at age six, courtesy of falling off her bike. Although it’s nice to have smooth skin again, those scars were a mark of her survival, she’s not sure who she is anymore without them. She’s not sure who she is anymore, anyway. How do you go back to your life after a literal escape from death? 

She squeezes her eyes shut and wills her mind away from those thoughts. Following them is a dangerous road to go down. And right now, there are more pressing concerns, because when she opens her eyes again she notices that the other side of the bed, where only a few hours ago she and Nyssa had passionately become reacquainted with each other, is empty. 

The sheets are still warm, though, Nyssa can’t have been gone for long. Sara slips out from under the covers, and shrugs on a robe that was hanging off the back of Nyssa’s chair. The nights are chill in the mountains, and autumn is coming.

She softly pads on bare feet through Nyssa’s chambers, and out onto the balcony which overlooks the courtyard. The wind catches in her hair, and sends the strands dancing around her face as she breathes deeply in the scent of mountain air incense that always hangs around Nanda Parbat. But Nyssa is not out here, at least, not on the balcony itself. 

Sara hears a small sound, almost like a sob, coming from above her head, but that can’t be right. Nyssa doesn’t cry. Nyssa has never once cried in the five years Sara has known her. Frowning, Sara grasps at the ornamental façade, placing her hands and feet carefully where Nyssa showed her years ago. Only some of the carvings are solid enough to bear her weight, but Sara remembers each one as vividly as the night Nyssa brought her to the roof for the first time, and kissed her under the stars.

She hauls herself lightly above the lip of the roof, and there is Nyssa, clad only in her silk pyjamas, knees drawn up to her chest, and tears rolling freely down her face. Sara’s heart wrenches. “Nyssa,” she whispers, and Nyssa startles, hands coming up to frantically wipe away her tears.

“ _Habibti,_ ” she says, hands twisting the black silk at her knees, “I did not hear you approach.” Her shoulders slump, “I was not alert enough, one more thing at which I have failed.” Sara’s own eyes fill with sympathetic tears as she covers the last few steps to her Beloved, and sits down at her side.

“ _Querida,_ ” she says, “you haven’t failed. I think the Pit is still affecting me, it made me stronger, after all, why not quieter, too? Besides, we’re safe in Nanda Parbat, why should you be expecting danger?”

“Because there is always danger about, Beloved.” 

Sara smiles sadly, and brushes the last tear away with the pad of her thumb. 

“You killed Merlyn, and the League has sworn loyalty to you as the true Heir. I’m safe, and alive, and you brought me back. Can’t we give ourselves that, at least?” Her words are meant to be comforting, but Nyssa ducks her head back to her knees and her sobs start anew.

“You _died,_ ” she says, in between ragged breaths, “you _died_ , and I was not there to protect you. I failed to keep you safe. My heart, my soul.”

Sara gathers Nyssa into her arms, and strokes her hair gently, humming an old Arabic lullaby until Nyssa’s shaking subsides.

“Come on, _habibti_ ,” Sara says, “let’s get back to bed. I’m here. I’m not dead anymore and I’m here. I promise I will never leave you again. Not ever.” Nyssa nods, and allows Sara to help her to her feet. She follows Sara down the façade of the building, and back into the bed they both share once more. 

Nyssa curls onto her side, and Sara curls up behind her, whispering soft words of love into her dark hair.

“I was so lost without you,” Nyssa says, after a moment of silence. “This past year has been so difficult.”

“Tell me about it,” Sara says, “I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

“Where do I start?” Nyssa says, “With the fact that your friends in Starling neglected to tell me you were gone, when I could have done something sooner to save you? When Oliver took Merlyn under his protection because of a thin blood tie between him and Oliver’s sister? My own father choosing an outsider over me, forcing me to wed him just to become some sort of broodmare? And then I did not even get the pleasure of ripping out his throat myself.” 

Sara grits her teeth and swears that if Ra’s weren’t already dead, she would kill him herself. 

“Then of course that outsider hands off the title of Demon’s Head to the one who killed my Beloved. But the League knows to whom their loyalties should lie. Once a traitor, always a traitor. I drove my blade through the worm’s heart with pleasure, once he could no longer beg for death.” Sara wraps her arms tighter around Nyssa, breathes in her scent, revelling in the simple fact of being alive, and being here, being with her.

“The only bright spot of this entire year has been having the chance to meet and train your sister. She is quite talented, you know, despite her strange dietary choices.”

“You two are a team I never would have expected,” Sara says, “and I’m kind of worried about you ganging up on me.” Nyssa rolls over in Sara’s arms to face her.

“You should be,” she says, face poker straight.

Sara just kisses her on the nose, which makes Nyssa blush, and smile. “Sleep, _habibti_ ,” Sara says, “we can talk more about you getting all cozy with my sister in the morning.”

“I would hardly call my training methods ‘cozy’” Nyssa protests, “in fact there was quite a lot of complaining if I remember correctly. She is almost as mouthy as you.”

“Hush,” Sara says, eyes closed, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my darling,” Nyssa replies. Sara smiles as she feels a soft kiss being pressed to the spot between her eyes. “Goodnight.”


	14. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. One night stand and falling pregnant AU

Sara would have been more concerned about the explosion at Star Labs, and the crazy lights in the sky if she weren’t busy having the best sex of her life with the drop dead gorgeous brunette who’d picked her up at a bar earlier just after her arrival in Central City. She’d planned on surprising her mom with a visit, but as soon as the woman walked in (on legs that went for days) she figured the surprise could wait until the morning.

It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the electricity, or energy, or whatever it was rush through the woman’s 18th floor hotel room–and consequently Sara’s own body–but at the time she’d put it down to the incredible things that Nyssa (or Ms Raatko to the very deferential hotel staff) was doing with her tongue.

Two months later, she figured she should have paid a bit more attention.

“Pregnant?!?” she exclaimed pushing herself upright on the examining table. “How can I be pregnant?”

“Usually by having sex,” Laurel deadpanned from the chair in the corner. Sara rolled her eyes. Some moral support.

“Um yeah, but usually dicks are involved,” she retorted. “I haven’t slept with anyone with a penis since Jason in my last year of college.”

“Are you sure you haven’t engaged in any sexual intercourse since then, Ms Lance?” the doctor asked. “Because the results are conclusive, you are definitely pregnant. Two months along, by my calculations.”

“Well of course I’ve had sex since then. Bisexuality,” she added, noticing the doctor’s confused look, “it exists.”

“Okay, this is going to sound really weird,” Laurel said, “but did you have sex with anyone in the last two months, like, at all?”

“No, I don’t–wait, yeah. I went to visit mom about two months ago in Central City and met this girl at a bar…” Laurel gave her a look. “You don’t think… no way,” Sara said.

“Wasn’t that the night the particle accelerator exploded?” Laurel asked. “There have been some really weird things happening around here since then.”

“But pregnancy?” Sara asked, raising both eyebrows.

“It’s a better theory than you’ve been chosen to carry the second coming of Jesus,” Laurel said, ”especially because I think they could have chosen a way worthier vessel.”

“Hey,” Sara said, “I am totally worthy.” Laurel rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever,” she said. 

“Well, whatever your theories are,” the doctor interrupted, “I’m going to have to prescribe you prenatal vitamins, Ms Lance, and schedule you an appointment with an obstetrician. Now that you know you’re pregnant, however it may have happened, you need to start looking after yourself–and this baby–properly.” Sara nodded, lips thin, and slipped off the examining table to start putting her clothes back on.

It was crazy, ridiculous, impossible, this theory that Laurel proposed, but Sara still had the feeling that she would be making an extremely awkward phone call very soon.


	15. Mustang Sally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 37\. cop/person pulled over for speeding AU

The downside to rebelling against your cop father by becoming a cop yourself, Sara thinks as she slouches in her cruiser’s seat, is that said father has a large chance of getting promoted, and sticking you on highway patrol far away from anything remotely exciting happening. Ever. She sighs as she slouches a little further, and sticks out her bottom lip to blow a stray piece of her blonde bangs out of her eyes. She snaps her gum a few times, loudly, and glances through the corner of her eye at her partner, John Diggle.

Dig is a fantastic cop, and a great partner, but on boring days like this one, she enjoys trying to get a rise out of him. Trying being the operative word.

Dig, some type of ex-military or something, was able to stay frustratingly composed. Sara could only tell that he was annoyed this time by the slight furrowing of his brow each time she opened her mouth to snap her gum again.

“Don’t even think about it, Lance,” he says, as she goes to snap the gum one more time. “Eyes on the road, and keep that damn gum in your mouth.” Sara gives him a mocking little salute, but did as he asked.

“Sure thing Dig–holy shit, did you see that?” she says as a dark red Mustang blows past them in the opposite direction.

“I’m on it,” he replies as he reaches up to turn on the lights and the sirens.

He puts the car into gear and pulls up off the shoulder and onto the highway. The speedometer reads 80 miles an hour as they start gaining on the speeding convertible. For a moment, Sara thinks it might turn into an actual police chase, because the driver shows no signs of slowing, but then the brake lights come on and the flashy sports car pulls over to the side of the road, and stops.

Dig noses the cruiser carefully in behind and turns off the sirens, but he keeps the lights flashing. “No point running the plates on this one, Dig,” Sara says, pointing to the blue and orange Budget sticker on the back bumper.

“We’ll do it anyway, just to see where it was rented from,” he replies. “Why don’t you take point on this one, Lance, maybe it’ll stop you from acting like a grounded teenager.” Sara slaps him lightly on the arm and feigns offense, but she knows he’s got a point. She’s been letting the monotony get to her, and it’s unprofessional. He gives her a small grin, and nods towards the parked car. Sara lets the driver stew for another couple of minutes, before she gets out, and saunters toward the driver’s side window.

Sara knocks on the glass, and peers over her aviators as the driver rolls her window down. She’s glad she’s wearing the sunglasses because they cover the way her eyes widen at the sight of the woman in the driver’s seat. She’s got the darkest brown eyes Sara’s ever seen, the blood red dress she’s wearing only highlights the richness in her black hair and tanned complexion. 

“Ma’am,” Sara says, “do you know how fast you were going?”

“Obviously fast enough to catch your attention, Officer…Lance,” the woman says, glancing at Sara’s nametag. Her English is accented, but lyrical. Sara would almost say it was British, but not quite.

“That’s right,” she answers, “and I’m sure you know that means it was too fast. License and registration, please.” The woman leans over to open the glove compartment, and retrieves the rental company’s insurance papers, plus her paperwork and wallet, from which she pulls her license. Sara takes the offered items, and squints a little at the card. 

“Umm, ma’am, I can’t read this, I’m sorry. Do you have any other identification, or perhaps an international driver’s license?” The woman laughs, and tugs a little paper booklet in Sara’s hand free. Sara blushes slightly, and opens up the booklet to see a picture of the woman and her name, Nyssa Naslednitsa, written on the inside

“The original is in Russian. I would have been most impressed if you had been able to read it. Most people in your country are tragically monolingual,” Nyssa says.

“Right, well, I’m just going to run this through the system quickly. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Nyssa answers.

Sara trudges back to the cruiser, and hands Dig the papers to check in their database. She taps her foot impatiently against the gravel as the computer works. Finally, Dig looks up from the screen and shakes his head at her.

“Nothing. Nothing in our records anyway. We’ll still give her a ticket, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else going on.” Sara nods.

“Right, on traffic violation coming right up.”

Nyssa is staring out the window, when Sara comes back to hand her the ticket and all her papers back.

“You couldn’t let me off with a warning, this time?” Nyssa says. Sara could swear she was fluttering her lashes at her.

“I would if you were going a bit slower, but you were doing 80 in a 55 zone, Ma’am,” Sara says, “consider yourself lucky it’s only a ticket.”

“Would you believe I got the conversions mixed up?”

“Not likely, since this is an American car, rented from an American company, and miles are right there in front of your face,” Sara says tapping the dash with the tip of her pen.

“Well,” Nyssa says, “it was worth a try.” Sara definitely doesn’t miss the up and down look she receives this time, and smirks. Two can play at this game, she thinks. She leans a little further forward and makes a show off pulling one of her cards from the front pocket of her uniform shirt. The sun is hot out today, but Sara doesn’t think that’s why Nyssa’s cheeks are suddenly turning pink.

“If you have any more questions, Ma’am, here is my card,” she says handing the slim piece of cardboard over to Nyssa, and brushing their fingertips as she does so. There’s a jolt as she makes contact, like a static shock or something. “Feel free to give me a call. But you’re still going to have to pay that ticket.” She doesn’t give Nyssa a chance to reply, but saunters off ,making sure that she’s visible in the rearview mirror.

When she climbs back in the cruiser, Diggle gives her a Look. “Was that really necessary?” he asks. 

“She started it,” Sara says, “besides, she was really hot.” Diggle sighs.

“You know I’m going to have to tell your dad about this, right?”

“Just drive,” Sara replies. “But maybe if I keep it up, he’ll finally pull me off highway patrol.”

Sara’s sure that Diggle’s given her one of his world class eyerolls, but she’s busy looking in the rearview mirror at the Mustang still sitting by the side of the road, hoping, maybe, that Nyssa might actually give her a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last name I used for Nyssa in this story (one of her many pseudonyms) translates roughly to "heiress" in Russian.


	16. Nice Day for a White Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. Two miserable people meeting at a wedding AU

If Sara had to endure one more well-meaning relative asking her when her turn was coming, she thought she might scream. The DJ was playing some awful top 40 sappy love song, her feet hurt, and Great Aunt Mabel had just finished giving her the third degree for the fourth time this evening. As if her answers would have changed.

“So do you think you’ll go back to school, Sara?”

“Any young men in your life, Sara?”

“Aren’t you tired of working at that bar, Sara?”

“Doesn’t Laurel look lovely, Sara?”

Of course Laurel looked lovely. She always looked lovely. Perfect, beautiful Laurel, with her law degree, and her save-the world job, and her handsome, charismatic millionaire boyfriend turned husband. 

Sara sighed, and glanced back at the dance floor. Laurel was just glowing with happiness, and Tommy, well, Tommy looked at Laurel like she’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. Frankly, it was disgustingly sweet. She watched Tommy whisper something in Laurel’s ear, and Laurel threw back her head and laughed. Sara glared into her half empty champagne flute.

It wasn’t Laurel’s fault that she was so driven (and that all of their relatives held Sara up to the standard Laurel had set). Sara loved her sister, very, very much, but she just didn’t have the same ambition or goals in life. Nobody seemed to understand that. 

The day she’d told her family she was dropping out of college was one she’d never forget. Her father had shouted, her mother had cried, and Laurel looked at her like she was a stranger.

“I just don’t want to waste my time and money on this when I don’t even know what I want to do with my life!” she’d explained. But nobody listened.

So she was kind of surprised when Laurel asked her to be her Maid of Honour after Tommy popped the question.

“You’re my sister, Sara, and I love you. Who else would I want standing up there next to me at my wedding? And you can pick your own dress,” she’d added seeing Sara’s sceptical look, “as long as it goes with the colour scheme.”

“So no black, then?” she’d asked.

“No! No black dresses at my wedding,” Laurel had shouted, laughing, and promptly hit Sara over the head with a pillow. 

So here Sara stood, in her Persian blue dress, fielding prying questions from the various Lance clan members, and working on her third glass of champagne of the evening. “I need something stronger,” she muttered to herself as the DJ started in with something even slower and sappier than the previous song.

She managed to evade any more well-meaning relatives on her way to the bar, and sank onto one of the stools there with a sigh of relief. “Rum and coke, please,” she asked the bartender, some young kid that looked like he could be a model for Abercrombie & Fitch, “make it a double.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” said a smooth accented voice from over Sara’s left shoulder. She turned to look and saw a dark-haired woman in a blood red satin cocktail dress standing behind her. “Mind if I have a seat?” she asked, obviously addressing Sara.

“Not at all,” she answered. “If my relatives see me talking to someone else, they might leave me alone for a few minutes.” Sara patted the stool next to her, and the woman sat down gracefully, smoothing her skirt. Sara couldn’t help but glance at her lips, the colour of which matched her dress perfectly.

“Ah yes, you were the maid of honour, were you not? I remember seeing you in the bridal party.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Sister of the bride, actually. And I’m assuming you’re a friend of the groom?”

“Not exactly,” the woman said. Sara quirked an eyebrow. “Thomas’ father apprenticed under my father at the very beginning of his foray into business,” she elaborated, “the Merlyn family still holds a great respect for what Malcolm learned under my father, and thus the invitations to various family functions. My father was the one invited, but as he is a very busy man, he sent me in his stead. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I have very little patience for social niceties, which tend to be necessary for events like these. I also think it was a kind of a punishment for not managing to make an alliance with the heir to Merlyn Global myself.”

“Can’t say as I blame you, honestly. I don’t know what sort of magic Laurel worked on him, but before he started dating her, Tommy was kind of a douche.” The woman laughed, and Sara smiled.

“He was, rather, wasn’t he? I’m Nyssa, by the way,” the woman said, holding out a hand for Sara to take, “Nyssa al Ghul.”

“Sara Lance,” she replied. “Wait, al Ghul, as in al Ghul Industries?”

“The very same.”

“So you’re the heir to the Demon that Tommy’s always going on about. I get the feeling he doesn’t really like your dad. Or the fact that he figured his dad and yours were always trying to set the two of you up.” Nyssa gave an amused chuckle.

“Well, he wouldn’t be the only one. Much to my father’s chagrin, however, Thomas is not exactly my type.” As Nyssa said this, Sara noticed her teeth graze those red lips, and her eyes flick quickly up and down.

“And what exactly is your type?” Sara asked, picking up the drink the bartender had just set down, and pulling the straw into her mouth.

Nyssa picked up her own drink and took a sip before answering. “I think you may have figured that out already,” she said. Sara didn’t have a chance to reply before Nyssa was sliding off her stool and reaching for her hand. It took Sara a moment to realise the thumping she was hearing in her ears wasn’t just from her accelerated heartbeat, the DJ had finally switched to something uptempo.

“I love this song,” Nyssa said, “I was beginning to despair at the music choice, but I believe the evening has begun to look up.”

“Is that your way of asking me to dance?” Sara asked. Nyssa quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that your way of saying yes?” she replied. Smirking, Sara slipped off her own stool and grabbed her drink.

“Let’s go,” she said and let Nyssa lead her by the hand out onto the crowded dance floor.


	17. The Things You Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things You Said. . .1) while we were driving. . . 2) with too many miles between us. . . 3) when we were on top of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very different format. Very mini fics. Also I may have taken the last one rather literally.

_7\. Things you said while we were driving_

“Let’s just keep going,” you said, as the setting sun cast pink highlights in your beautiful golden hair. Your arm was hanging out the window and your hand danced up and down as if surfing the desert air currents. “Let’s just keep driving. Let’s cross the border and leave everything behind. We’ll start over new, Nyssa, just you and me.”

And in that moment I wanted to, I wished to do so more than anything else in the world. But there was no place my father wouldn’t find us, nowhere his great arm couldn’t reach.

I made no reply, I only reached across the gearshift and squeezed your knee, gently. You smiled at me then, although it did not reach your eyes.

“It’s stupid, I know,” you said, and let it drop, turning to look back out the window. Your hand lay limp and listless against the side of the vehicle.

I wish I’d listened. I wish I’d pressed down on the gas pedal and never stopped, because two months later you were gone from me, and I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.

 

_15\. Things you said with too many miles between us._

“I do not understand why you must do this,” I said. “Just come home, Sara.”

“I need time, Nyssa,” you replied. “I’m not who I used to be.” Your voice sounded so thin and tired over the fragile telephone connection.

“You are my Taer al Asfer, my little yellow bird, and you always will be. Please come back to Nanda Parbat, I miss you.”

“I died Nyssa. I died and then I was ripped from the peace of death by the same man who put me there. So long as he is still living, I can’t come home. I’m sorry.” And then you hung up, leaving me with nothing but the dial tone in my ear, and an empty beat in my chest.

 

_21\. Things you said when we were on top of the world._

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, your words coming out in little puffs of condensation from the bitter Tibetan cold. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars in my whole life.”

The evening was a rare clear one, and we’d snuck away from my father’s compound to a nearby peak to watch the stars. I was far too busy watching your eyes shining to pay any attention to the constellations above.

“Nyssa, look! A shooting star!” You clutched my hand tighter in yours, and pointed excitedly to the sky.

“For what do you wish?” I asked. You turned to me, then, and your kiss told me so much more than your words ever could.


	18. Drabbles? Drabbles!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of drabbles (100 words exactly) from a recent prompt meme. Some take place in the canon universe, some are my au, some are borrowed from other writers' universes (thanks Frea!), and one is a continuation of sorts of the star labs explosion pregnancy fic from a few chapters back.

**19.** “The paint’s supposed to go where?” Sara asks, feigning innocence. “Nyssa, did you know that we’re supposed to be putting it on the wall?”

“Is that the purpose?” Nyssa replies, raising one paint-splattered eyebrow. “It seems the instructions were a little unclear.”

Felicity looks over the pair of them, splashed head to toe with dollops of Aquarius #788. “Okay, one sarcastic asshole assassin, I can handle. Two is too many. This is the last time I ask you to help me renovate.”

“She started it,” Nyssa says, and Felicity quickly backs out of the room as paint starts flying again.

 

* * *

 

 **27.** “I’m pregnant”

When the number pops up on her call display, those two words are the last ones that Nyssa expects to hear. In fact she almost drops her phone. She remembers the day spent with Sara, the gorgeous blonde in Central City, quite vividly, and if she’s being honest, she’s been hoping for a text or a phone call for a while now. Three months, to be exact.

“And what does this have to do with me?” she asks.

“Uh, Nyssa, this is going to sound absolutely crazy, but it’s yours.”

This time, she really does drop the phone.

* * *

 

 

 **35.** “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“No,” Sara said, pulling Ra’s’ cloak tighter.

“Sara, if my father should find you parading around with his things like a child playing dress-up he shall have us both killed.”

“Relax, your father isn’t due back for another day. Besides, I think I look good in this. Don’t you?”

“I think you look ridiculous. Now please, take it off.”

“Hmm, I think you’re right. Maybe it would suit you better.” Before Nyssa could protest, Sara swung the cloak over her shoulders. “It does,” she whispered in Nyssa’s ear.

The cloak was discarded soon after.

* * *

 

 

 **37.** Wanna dance?” Sara asks holding out her hand.

“There’s no music,” Nyssa answers.

“Call yourself Captain of the dance team, and you can’t even do it without music?”

Nyssa bristles, but Sara winks cheekily, and drags her hand down the length of Nyssa’s arm.

“Imagine it in your head, just go with the rhythm,” she says, fingers tangling with Nyssa’s and pulling her close. Sara lets out a shriek of laughter as Nyssa suddenly spins her and leans her into a dip. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she says.

“Shut up,” Nyssa says, and leans in for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

 **38.** “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Sara blushed, both at the fact that she’d apparently fainted on public transit, and that the woman who’d rescued her was drop-dead gorgeous. “I’m Nyssa,” the woman said.

“Sara,” Sara replied.

“I would shake your hand, but both of mine are currently occupied in holding you up.” Sara quickly jumped to her feet, and backed up as much as the crowded bus would allow. “I didn’t say I minded,” Nyssa said with a smirk.

Sara found that neither did she.

 

* * *

 

 **39.** “Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

Sara lunges after Nyssa, but not fast enough. Nyssa dances away with Sara’s double-chocolate brownie.

“You know such indulgences are not permitted during training, little bird.”

“I’ve been working my ass off. Just one bite?” Sara asks as she creeps closer to Nyssa. “Please?” Nyssa shakes her head.

“Fine,” Sara says, grabbing Nyssa’s collar with one hand to pull her close. “I’ll settle for something sweeter.” She leans in and places a soft kiss against Nyssa’s lips, then with a Cheshire grin, takes off running, the stolen brownie held safely in her free hand

 

* * *

 

 **44.** “If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” Sara said, as she dodged another bullet. Her first real mission and already everything was shit.

“That makes no sense,” Nyssa answered. “How could you kill me if I am already dead?”

“How about I answer that when you’re not bleeding out in a warehouse and I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet!” Sara’s whole face flushed red when she realised what she’d said.

“You want to kiss me?” Nyssa asked. Sara nodded. “Forget dying, then,” Nyssa said, “I intend to live.”

It took thirty seconds for Nyssa to kill them all.

 

* * *

 

 **50.** Writer’s preference

“Have I entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Sara said, as she leaned against her bo. She couldn’t help the glow of pride from the small quirk of the lips that Nyssa sent her way.

“Am I not allowed to show appreciation for a job well done?” Nyssa asked.

“Sure, but I thought all you assassins were all stoic all the time.”

“Perhaps, but on alternate days of the week, we are permitted three to seven other facial expressions.” Sara’s laugh brought on by the dry delivery only made the smile grow larger.


	19. Five times Nyssa leaves Sara hanging and one time she doesn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch prompt: High Fives

Five Times Nyssa leaves Sara hanging and one time she doesn’t

 

1\. “Why are you holding your hand up like that?” Nyssa asks, one eyebrow quirked upwards at the small, blonde American she picked up out of the water not six weeks ago.

Sara looks at her hand and back at Nyssa. “Umm, it’s a high five. You know, traditional American gesture of celebration?” she says waving said hand slightly.

“I am well aware of what a high five is, my concern is what you think merits such a gesture.”

“I just hit the bullseye for the first time ever, I think that deserves one, don’t you?” Nyssa smiles in a way that Sara has learned to equate with sore muscles and utter exhaustion, and she lets her arm sink slowly down to her side.

“Any apprentice knows that once is merely a fluke. Hit the target five times in a row and then we can consider celebrating.” Sara groans and bends down to pick up another arrow from the quiver. “I will see you later for calligraphy lessons, Sara,” Nyssa says, her smile turning into a full blown smirk as she saunters away. Sara turns to face the target and a long, long afternoon of archery practice.

2\. Sara ducks as the punch that was aiming for her head swings harmlessly by. The goon snarls, and Sara almost rolls her eyes as she stands. She easily grabs his outstretched arm, steps in close, and uses the momentum of the man’s attack against him, throwing him to the floor. She doesn’t let him have the chance to try and get to his feet as she straddles him and uses both hands to snap his neck.

Nyssa’s voice rings out across the room, “احترس” and Sara, without hesitation, drops to her stomach on the floor and rolls out of the way. The second rent-a-thug that had his nightstick raised over Sara’s head stumbles and falls to his back on the ground, three of Nyssa’s arrows sticking out of his chest. Sara stands, and brushes the dust off her black leather armour.

“Nice shot,” she says, and holds up her hand for a high five. Nyssa ignores the outstretched limb and walks past.

“Come, Taer Al-Asfer, we have much to do. We can discuss your lack of awareness of your surroundings later.”

“Always a lecture,” Sara mumbles under her breath.

“Always an opportunity to improve,” Nyssa fires back without even turning to look.

3.. The sound of the engine is loud in her ears as Sara guns her bike faster down the long, deserted stretch of highway. The speedometer reads 100 miles an hour and she grits her teeth. If she runs into trouble at this speed… But she doesn’t let herself finish that thought. The countryside rushes past in a blur of sand and scrub, and the occasional signpost telling her how far she still has to go to get back to civilization.

115 miles, 108, 97…

The engine coughs and Sara swears in Arabic, Chinese, and Russian for good measure. This cannot be happening, she won’t let this happen. The sign she just passed says there was a gas station in another ten miles. The bike just has to last another ten miles.

It’s practically limping by the time Sara sees the red and blue lights of the Exxon station and she lets out a breath she’s been holding for far too long. She checks her watch as she fills up, praying that an empty tank was the only thing wrong. One hour to go and at least 87 miles of empty desert road. She can do this. She can make it.

She hops back on and revs the motor. The little vintage Suzuki roars to life. Time to move on.

The sun is dipping below the horizon when Sara finally sees the sign she's been waiting for. Las Vegas next exit.

She can see the bright lights of the city on the horizon and the designated meeting spot at a pull out half a mile past the exit itself. She slows to a stop and puts the kickstand down, killing the engine. She hops off the bike and pulls her helmet off, surreptitiously checking her watch as she does so. 9:59pm. Not a moment too soon.

Two shadows by the side of the road solidify into the shapes of League assassins at exactly ten pm. Sara's eyes dart between the two and she bites her lip, swallowing against the lump that has suddenly lodged itself in her throat when she realises that both are male and neither is whom she was secretly hoping would meet her at the end of this assignment.

“Congratulations Ta’er Al Asfar, you have passed the test of loyalty to the League. Given a solo mission and the means of ready escape back to your old life, you have chosen to remain with your brothers and sisters at arms,” one of the assassins says. As he lifts his hood, Sara recognises him as Sa’rab, one of Ra’s Al Ghul’s inner circle. The other man steps forward and hands her an envelope. “You will return home tomorrow to Nanda Parbat, your tickets are arranged as well as identification documents. In that envelope you will also find directions and a key to the safehouse for tonight,” Sa’rab says. Sara nods and tucks the envelope inside her jacket. She bows to both assassins who return the gesture. She’s not sure but she thinks she may even detect the hint of a smile on Sa’rab’s face. “You have travelled far and have had a long day. I suggest you get some rest, soon.” Sara frowns at his last comment, what did he think she was going to do, go play slots? She just wants to have a shower to clean off the dust of the journey and hopefully sleep for more than three hours in a row. She doesn’t vocalize any of this, just bows again.

“Yes, Sa’rab,” she says. He nods in return and he and the other assassin melt back into the shadows. Sara pulls the envelope out of her jacket and studies the directions for a moment before sliding them away and putting her helmet back on. She straddles the bike and gets the kickstart going, then roars off into the night towards the bright lights of Las Vegas.

The safehouse is an unassuming bungalow on the outskirts of town, just rundown enough for locals to avoid it, but not enough that it would be a place of interest for police. Sara unlocks the back door and slips inside. Immediately her senses warn her that she is not alone. She spins around, the knife she has hidden in her sleeve firmly clenched in her right hand.

“Your awareness of your surroundings has improved, I see,” comes a voice from the shadows. Sara relaxes and sheathes her blade.

“Yeah? Well, I had a good teacher.” Nyssa steps out into the light that comes through the windows and Sara takes another unconscious step forward. Nyssa’s presence is magnetic and Sara can’t believe how much she’s missed her these past three days. “I passed,” she says, instead of admitting all the things she actually wants to say, like “ I missed you”,”you look so beautiful”, or “please for the love of God, kiss me, I can’t stand dancing around whatever this is any longer.”

“I know. Congratulations Ta'er Al Asfar,” Nyssa says. Sara feels a blush rising on her cheeks. Of course Nyssa knows. Sara wouldn’t be standing here if she'd failed, she’d be dead by the roadside or hidden somewhere no one would ever find the body. Still, the warm look Nyssa gives Sara, coupled with the way she says Sara’s new name sends sparks rushing through Sara’s body.

Sara has never been the awkward one, even in high school she was the party girl, social butterfly, the one most of the guys (and a few of the girls) wanted. But Nyssa, Nyssa makes her feel like a gangly teenager, so unsure of herself.

“High five?” she says to break the silence and the tension, lifting her arm. Nyssa just gives her a look before stepping in and gently pressing Sara’s arm back down to her side. Sara’s can feel her heart pick up speed like a startled rabbit as Nyssa steps even closer and draws her into an embrace.

“I was so worried, Ta’er Al Asfar,” she says, “Sa’rab told me you beat the deadline by one minute.”

“But I made it. I’m here,” she replies and nuzzles into the lapels of Nyssa’s leather jacket. She can hear Nyssa’s heartbeat, too, almost as rapid as her own and she catches the scent of something floral against Nyssa’s skin. “Are you wearing perfume?” she asks. She can’t be sure in the dim light, but she thinks it’s Nyssa’s turn to blush.

“And what if I am?”

“I thought that was against League policy? Leave no trace, even on the breeze.”

“Exceptions can be made for special circumstances.”

“And this is a special circumstance?”

“Yes, Habibti, it is.” Sara’s heart skips a beat at that word. Nyssa does not use endearments like that lightly. Sara can see Nyssa’s eyes, reflecting the street lamps, flick back and forth between her eyes and her lips and she can’t resist anymore . She can feel the tension like an actual physical force that pushes her onto her tiptoes. The same force seems to pull Nyssa down towards her. “Are you sure?” Nyssa asks, breath ghosting across Sara’s cheek

“Yes,” Sara replies, “this is the only damn thing I’ve been sure of for the last two years. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Nyssa does. It’s way better than a high five.

 

4\. “I am not high fiving you ‘because of the sex’, Sara, no matter how ‘mindblowing’ or ‘epic’ you purport it to have been.”

5\. The opportunity to hustle a few extra dollars from their marks doesn’t happen often, but when it does, Sara enjoys every moment of it. She especially enjoys the view she’s getting now, Nyssa, brow furrowed in concentration bent forward over the pool table and aiming for the seven ball, the last one before they can sink the eight and get on with the assignment. The two smirking jackasses they’re targeting obviously appreciate the view as well, judging by the way they’re leering.

Sara takes the opportunity to play more drunk than she actually is, and stumbles into the two of them, spilling her beer down the front of the taller man’s jeans. He starts swearing, and Sara has to admit, even she’s impressed with the vocabulary. “Oops,”she says,”I’m so clumsy. I guess I must’ve had more than I thought.” She finishes up her little performance by adding her best sorority girl giggle.

“Don’t worry darlin’,” the other man says, wrapping an arm around Sara’s waist and squeezing, “you can have as much as you like, we’ll take care of ya. Won’t we, Nick?”

“Sure, Jake, real good care.” Jake’s hand slips lower and he slaps Sara on the ass. Sara makes a mental note to kill him first, and Nyssa misses her shot.

“Better luck on the next turn,” Nick says and steps up to the table. Nyssa almost stalks back to Sara to hand her the pool cue. Sara puts a calming hand on Nyssa’s arm.

“Ya Habibti, it’s okay.”

“He dared lay a hand on you.”

“And I’ll take care of it. Later.” Nyssa nods and Sara can see the tension leave her as she takes a few deep breaths.

Nick swears as his last shot misses the pocket and Sara swaggers up to the table. She takes careful aim and easily sinks the seven. “Eight ball corner pocket,” she says, winks at Nyssa and jumps the cue ball over one of the boys’ remaining balls to tap the eight easily into the corner pocket. “Yes!” she says and turns to give Nyssa a high five. Instead Nyssa grabs Sara by the collar and pulls her in for a kiss. Sara freezes for a moment but soon melts into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Nyssa and pulling her in closer. Everything around her fades away until a wolf whistle breaks her from her trance. Their two marks are staring at them as if Christmas and their birthdays all came early, Nick with two fingers in his mouth, whistling.

Jake still dies first.

6\. “I’m sorry, what did she just call you?” Sara says, and takes two very slow, measured steps towards Oliver on the training mats. Her knuckles are white where her left hand is wrapped around her Bo staff. Oliver takes two unconscious steps backwards, palms held up facing Sara.

“I believe the term I used was husband,” Nyssa says, spitting the word as if it were poison, “did Oliver not inform you as to the events that occurred while you were gone?”

“No,”Sara says through gritted teeth, “pretty sure he skipped that part.”

“Sara, I can explain,” Oliver says, hands still raised in a placating gesture.

Sara twirls her bo, switching hands. “Go on,” she says, “I can’t wait to hear the God-damned stupid idea of yours that lead to this.”

“The city was in danger, I had to save it.”

“By marrying my girlfriend?”

“No! I mean yes. I…R’as al Ghul was forcing my hand. I had to pretend to be completely loyal or he would’ve known!”

“Was it consummated?” Sara asks, her calm tone a stark contrast with the tension in her body, the colour rising in her cheeks.

“What?” Oliver says, taking another step back.

“You heard me. Did. You. Touch. Her.”

“No! Of course not!”

“I would have cut off his manhood had he tried,” Nyssa says. Oliver flinches.

“But obviously you never brought Nyssa into the plot. Never told her that it was all a ruse, never thought to use her knowledge of the League and of Nanda Parbat.”

“Nobody could know, I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t tell her until after it was done.”

“Bullshit!” Sara says and lashes out with the bo, knocking Oliver’s feet out from underneath him. “You were fine with betraying everyone you love. You were fine going along with the plans of a patriarchal, obsessed madman. You were fine with letting the woman I love think you were going to rape her on the orders of her own father.” Oliver tries to get up, but every time he does, she knocks him down again, circling, like a bird of prey. There is blood trickling from his nose and a cut on his lip, and several angry red welts rising on his arms and back. He tries to grab the bo and pull it out of her grip, but she twists and uses the force of it to throw him to the ground again.

“Sara…” he starts to say but she steps in close and delivers a vicious backhand blow to his face.

“No. You don’t get to speak to me, you jackass. You lost that right the moment you hatched that reckless, stupid, selfish plan. If we were in the League right now, I’d challenge you to trial by combat and I wouldn’t hesitate to kick your ass.” She steps back and aims the tip of the bo right at his throat. “And just so you know, Ollie? The only reason you’re still alive right now is because I don’t want to waste my energy killing you. And it would probably make Felicity sad. You’re lucky you have such good friends, so maybe think twice about treating them like shit next time.”

She delivers one last sharp poke of the bo to his sternum, knocking the breath out of him before turning her back on him and walking away.

Nyssa joins her as she stalks up the stairs.

“I suppose I should thank you for defending my honour, Beloved,” she says

“You don’t have to thank me, you’d’ve done the same,” Sara says, “we take care of each other.” She is still fuming, her anger betrayed by crease in her brow and the tension around her mouth.

“Still, some sort of recompense is in order,” Nyssa says, “perhaps… a high five?” Sara turns to her Beloved on the stairs. Nyssa stands with one arm raised, a matching eyebrow quirked upwards and Sara can’t help but laugh as her anger melts away looking at Nyssa who in turn is looking expectantly back at her. 

Sara smiles, “alright,” she says, “high five!”


End file.
